An e-mail every knitter wants to get:
A [insert name of yarn store here] gift certificate was purchased for you by your sister. This gift certificate gives you a $250 shopping trip. Happy Birthday.
I know - heart-stopping and in a good way!
I got that very e-mail. My sister is a very thoughtful, generous and wonderful person. I don't know what yarn I'll buy. Your suggestions are welcome. I do promise this yarn will be fabulous with a capital F-A-B.
Speaking of wonderful celebrations ...
My friend Steph and I enjoyed a mutual birthday blowout at Saratoga Springs, NY earlier this month. This is me, after my first Ben and Jerry's cone ever (I know - late to the party). We also had a luxe window-shopping spree and dinner at Hattie's, which you may have seen on Food Network as host to a Bobby Flay fried chicken throwdown.
Fiftieth birthdays inspire not only fab presents and feasts but also personal inventories. This is mine, inspired by Christopher Kimball, editor of Cook's Illustrated:
I can remember buying the lp "Meet The Beatles" at age 7, price $3, eating Space Sticks, watching "Love, American Style", paying 25 cents for a milkshake, and wearing white go-go boots with a Brownie uniform.
I'm still not old enough to understand NASCAR, why anyone would knit a bathing suit, or why men have such a hard time multi-tasking.
Someday, when I am older, I hope I will be able to appreciate moebius scarves, stay the night at the El Tovar Hotel on the rim of the Grand Canyon, make homemade pumpkin fudge better than what I can buy, always have the perfect shoes for an outfit right at hand, swim 100 laps of freestyle without getting out of breath, and no longer worry about how you think I look in a bathing suit.
I am still much too young to spend the winter in Florida and wear gold loafers.
I am just old enough to fit the definition of Middle Age: when you're home on Saturday night and the phone rings and you hope it's not for you.